


'til i drown in your hands

by hamiltrashed



Series: flooded my senses [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is basically, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Because this is all about touch yo, Blow Jobs, But just a brief one, Fingerfucking, M/M, Touch-Starved, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:04:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8263654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamiltrashed/pseuds/hamiltrashed
Summary: Thomas comes home after a few days away and wakes a sleeping Alexander up, surprising him. And just like always, Alex responds to his touch desperately, fervently.Senses Series | Sense: touch.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michelle_A_Emerlind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/gifts).



> OHMYGOD okay, I finally got this goddamn ficlet done. My excuse is that I was working basically all summer and now I am an ocean away from my home, studying abroad in England, so my life got 2cray. HOWEVER, because I feel the need to repay you all for making you wait, there will be a (surprise!) sixth part to this series focusing on all the senses. Because why not? Anyway, point is, sorry this took so long, I love you all if you're still here after that.

Alex feels just like a summer breeze. Like a sunrise. Like paradise. Like the cool side of the pillow on a too-hot night. Somewhere, deep in his dreams, he feels like everything good in the world. It doesn’t occur to him exactly why this feeling is lingering at the edges of his mind until the dream starts to slip away. It shakes him loose like pocket change, turns upside down and lets him tumble back into the waking world, and with sudden clarity he understands the feeling of complete and utter satisfaction curling itself around every bare inch of his skin.

“You’re _home_ ,” he whispers breathlessly, digging his head back into the pillow and reveling in Thomas’s mouth on his neck, arching up into the warmth of his body. He sends up a silent plea to whatever deity might be listening that Thomas’s hands, currently roaming down his chest, his stomach, continue to touch him.

“Home and with time to take a shower before your ass ever woke up,” Thomas says, amused, finally pausing for a moment, his mouth hovering near Alex’s neck.

“Tired,” Alex mumbles, still half caught in the haze of sleep. “So tired. I tried waiting up for you, but I couldn’t anymore.”

Thomas hums thoughtfully and licks into the hollow of Alex’s throat. Alex bites back a moan. “I’ll help you get back to sleep then, shall I?” Thomas asks.

Alex can only nod, perhaps far too eagerly. His whole body tingles as it comes awake, alive, and maybe for the millionth time, he considers how much magic is in Thomas’s touch to be able to make him feel like this. Once upon a time, there’d been other people who did just enough and never more, but Thomas gives in spades and doesn’t let up until Alex has to beg him to stop for the sake of his own sanity. And still, he can never _really_ have enough. Who could?

Thomas’s breath tickles Alex’s skin, warm and tempting, and his body comprehends before his brain does, responding accordingly. Thomas curls a hand around him through the thin cotton of his boxers, runs his thumb along the head of his cock until Alex gasps.

“Someone missed me,” Thomas observes, amused.

“ _Yes_ ,” Alex murmurs as he rolls his hips against Thomas’s palm, still sleepy but hoping for more. He lets his eyes fall shut again, his fingers curling into the sheets. “You gonna touch me?” He tries not to let it sound like an outright plea, even though that’s what it is and they both know it.

“Everywhere,” Thomas promises. “But first…”

Thomas takes advantage of Alex’s bucking hips to slide his boxers down around his thighs, and almost immediately, his mouth is on him. Alex’s eyes fly open and one hand lands in Thomas’s hair, the other now gripping the pillow beneath his head as he thrusts up into Thomas’s throat, suddenly wide awake and desperately needy.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Alex whines, and Thomas sucks hard, runs the flat of his tongue along Alex’s cock and then flicks the tip across the slit until he’s whimpering. “So good, you’re -- _fuck_ , that’s so good, baby, _please_ …”

Alex will admit he’s been known to babble during sex (as if he doesn’t babble literally any other time), but nothing of substance comes out when he does. His brain, usually so full of things he’d like to say and do and be, is reduced to a muddy, foggy puddle of _please_ and _yes_ and _more_ and pet names he doesn’t usually call Thomas. Thomas doesn’t seem to mind; if Alex had his own eyes open just now to look at Thomas’s, he’s sure they’d be full of mischief.

And mischief is the right word, because almost as soon as he’s begun, Thomas is pulling away, all tease and no follow through. That mouth of his, previously (and sometimes still) a source of much strife between them, plants kisses all along his thighs while Thomas’s fingertips trace patterns around his hipbones. Alex shivers; he’s always loved the things Thomas can do with his tongue, but sometimes all he wants is for Thomas to map him out with hands alone, warm palms covering every inch of him as if he is uncharted territory.

He’s not, of course, but it doesn’t matter how many times Thomas does touch him, because he always does it like it’s the first time. Every time, it feels the way it does when you first decide to fuck somebody, and you don’t know a damn thing about their body except how badly you want it. And so you explore all of it, learn it like it could teach you the secrets of the universe, treat it sacred like a temple that you plan to worship at because you will. Sometime later, the novelty wears off for most people and a body is a body is a body. But Thomas still touches him like he’s tending to an altar. In the past, other people have touched him like they’re checking for all the places where he’s flawed. But Thomas always touches Alex like he’s looking for all the little places where the hands of some artist reached out and sculpted and made perfection.

So Alex reacts the way he always reacts, arching into it, aching for it, close to begging. “Please,” he whispers, and he opens his eyes now and pleads with those, too.

“Impatient,” Thomas laughs, shaking his head.

Alex slides his arms around Thomas’s neck, pulls him down for a kiss. “I’m not impatient, you’re just the devil,” he insists.

Thomas hums against his lips, nipping with his teeth at the bottom one until Alex whimpers. “You wouldn’t love it half as much if I didn’t make you need it this badly.”

Alex rolls his eyes, bucks his hips up to make sure Thomas can feel him and just how badly he really _does_ need it. “Just fuck me already,” he whines. “Been waiting long enough. Four days.”

Thomas chuckles, lets his fingertips dance along Alex’s chest, brushing across one nipple. “Four whole days and you’re already a sex-starved maniac. Can’t _wait_ to see what happens if I ever leave for an entire week.”

Alex huffs. “You’d better take me with you if you go for a week.” He wraps his legs around Thomas’s waist. “You’re getting off track.”

Thomas leans in for a soft kiss. “My deepest apologies,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.

Alex lets go of him, falls limp against the mattress, closes his eyes. “May as well go back to sleep,” he says lightly, his tone innocent. “If you’re not going to do anything…”

There’s a pause where Alex thinks Thomas really _isn’t_ going to do anything, and then out of nowhere there are warm, slick fingers pressing inside him. His eyes pop back open and he gasps, looking at Thomas who is wearing an absolutely shit-eating grin.

“You sure about that?” he asks, fingers curling in just the way that Alex likes, and Alex has no idea where the lube came from. But it could have materialised out of thin air for all he cares. All he wants is for Thomas to keep going, to keep slowly opening him up.

“Okay, I’m awake,” he hisses, hips rocking up from the bed again and again now. Suddenly, he doesn’t care if Thomas fucks him; this is good enough. Good enough for this moment in the too-early morning, in the dark of this room, where Alex’s brain is cloudy and the only thing clear to him is that he’s pretty sure he can taste every letter of Thomas’s name as it rolls off his tongue.

Alex’s fingers dig into the sheets, then into Thomas’s shoulders, and his legs go back around him, heels pressing hard into his back, toes curling. Alex is reminded of how this was hasty the first time they’d ever fucked; so desperate were they for the act itself that Thomas had spent a minute on him, maybe two before replacing his fingers with something a hell of a lot bigger.

But god, does Alex love it when he takes his time. When every thrust of his hand is punctuated by one of Thomas’s own heavy breaths. Alex can’t pretend he doesn’t know it turns him on to watch Alex fall apart like this with a finger or two in just the right spot, but the search is half the fun. He knows Thomas could find it in seconds after all this time, but he doesn’t. He teases first, coming close but never hitting that exact spot until he’s good and ready to do it. And Alex is always panting, squirming, begging by that point.

A throaty plea comes out of his mouth now at the thought of begging. “Please?” he asks, but it only makes Thomas go even slower.

“So impatient,” he repeats, grinning down at Alex, who has no leg to stand on with regards to pretending he could do without this now. There’s no stopping, even if he wanted to.

“Yes, I’m goddamn impatient,” he moans, because he’s dripping precome along his belly, hard and aching and longing for Thomas to touch him there, too. But he doesn’t, not just yet. All bark for the moment, barely a hint of bite.

Thomas hums softly, lets out a breathy sigh though his own chest is not heaving the way Alex’s is. “Think four days is bad, huh? I could do this all night. Let you ride the edge and not give you quite enough…”

“I would kill you,” Alex hisses, and Thomas laughs, strokes the knuckles of his free hand along the heaviness of Alex’s balls.

“I have no doubt,” he says, and without warning, he gives in. His hand surges forward until his fingers are all the way in, far as they’ll go, and then he curls them, twists them, starts stroking fast, insistent at Alex’s prostate.

Alex lets out a noise that sounds like a sob, wonders if the neighbours can hear him losing it. Wonders if they’re always listening when Thomas is touching him. Wonders if they’re jealous, because they should be. Nothing else on earth than being with him could possibly feel this good, this exhilarating, and his hips slam against the bed as he tries to rock back on Thomas’s hand, greedy for more.

There’s none of the impossible thickness of Thomas’s cock, and Thomas’s touch is much gentler than the aggressive thrust of his hips, but fuck, Alex feels like he could float away on this. He’s getting close to orgasm now, moans broken, back arching, and Thomas takes pity on him, wraps a firm hand around his cock, lets him fuck into the circle of his hand while his body writhes. His thighs tremble and his spine shudders and he’s almost there, almost --

Alex can feel his cock throbbing just like his heartbeat in Thomas’s hand, and his own fingers find one stiff nipple, pinching and rolling and pulling and lord, the touch of his own hand is almost as good. His body sets itself on fire, and he feels the weight of the heat in the room, the strength of his own desire, of Thomas’s. As it always is with Thomas, Alex feels as though it’s them and the universe, that it’s Thomas or the moon or the tide or all three offering an irresistible hand to pull him under until he’s drowning and parts of him are dying and being reborn all at once.

Alex thrusts into Thomas’s hand once more and comes, hard enough that he can’t remember the last time it felt _this_ good, perhaps because he blacked out then as he just about does now. All his muscles go taut and tight until it aches, and his knuckles go sore grabbing at the sheets. Then he really does go limp, wonders if the feeling of sinking into the mattress is real or if he’s just drunk on this. Thomas pulls his fingers free and Alex feels the loss immediately, feels cold until there’s warmth and he realises dimly that Thomas, gasping quietly, has just added to the mess all over him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and his voice feels thick, heavy, all wrong for his mouth. “Shoulda helped you.”

Thomas just looks down at him for a moment, and a smirk curls up one corner of his mouth. “You did,” he says. “Believe me.”

Alex gives a soft ‘hm’ of a laugh, counts his breaths, in and out, until they return to normal. Only then does he speak again.

“Wanna come fuck me in the shower?” he asks, and Thomas groans, collapses next to him and rolls his eyes.

“We’re not sixteen. Even the great Alexander Hamilton has to wait for it. Imagine that.”

Alex smiles a lazy smile, and he’s all too wide awake now. “Okay,” he says. “Then at least come clean me up until you _can_ fuck me.” Thomas lets himself be dragged from the bed.

“How can you possibly want it again so soon?” he asks in the shower, once Alex has handed him a bar of soap and his hands are again tracing every inch of Alex’s body.

Alex’s laugh echoes off the tiles. “If I could touch you the way you touch me, you’d never stop wanting it either.”  
  
Thomas pauses, then reaches down to bring one of Alex’s hands up to his chest. “Well, then. You better get some practise in, huh?”

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from Troye Sivan's song "Wild" and if you haven't listened to it, you need to go and do so and tell me that this lyric doesn't actually sound like "'til I come in your hands" because IT DEFINITELY DOES.


End file.
